


oh how I loved everybody else when I finally got to talk so much about myself

by suzukiblu



Series: McGenji AU Week [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dad Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, First Meeting, Foster Kid Jesse McCree, Injury Recovery, M/M, Past Injury, Prosthetics, Support Group, Underage Smoking, Young Genji Shimada, Young Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 16:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15247275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzukiblu/pseuds/suzukiblu
Summary: Jesse does not want to go to therapy, but unfortunately one thing about being seventeen and in the system is you don’t get much choice about where you go.“You lost yourarm, kid,” Gabe says.“I ain’tdead, old man,” Jesse retorts. “I’ll handle it.”“That’s the point of this, yeah,” Gabe says, then shoves him out of the car and leaves.“I’mright-handed, you asshole!” Jesse yells after his retreating tail lights.





	oh how I loved everybody else when I finally got to talk so much about myself

**Author's Note:**

> Day three of McGenji AU Week: Mundane AU! It took me a little while to figure out what I wanted to do for this one.

Jesse does not want to go to therapy, but unfortunately one thing about being seventeen and in the system is you don’t get much choice about where you go. 

“You lost your _arm_ , kid,” Gabe says. 

“I ain’t _dead_ , old man,” Jesse retorts. “I’ll handle it.” 

“That’s the point of this, yeah,” Gabe says, then shoves him out of the car and leaves. 

“I’m _right-handed_ , you asshole!” Jesse yells after his retreating tail lights. He’s not going to pretend he woke up from the car accident down half a limb and took it _well_ , but he’d like to meet the fucker who would. He’s not _grieving_ or anything, he doesn’t need Gabe wasting time and money on a damn _therapist_. 

He _definitely_ doesn’t need to go to a damn support group, no matter what that damn therapist says, but that, unfortunately, is where he’s at. And Gabe is definitely going to check that he actually went in and didn’t spend the whole time smoking out back, which sounds like a damn sight better of an idea. Jesse goes inside, cursing under his breath, and is so distracted he almost immediately walks right into a bald guy in a wheelchair who can’t be more than a couple years older than him. 

“Ah, you must be our new member,” the guy says pleasantly, and Jesse takes a moment to _despise_ the fact that that’s obvious. 

Then again, this guy’s pretty obvious too, so he’s not really the one to take that out on. 

“Yeah,” he says, tipping his hat back with a sigh that he manages to keep at least _most_ of the frustration out of. “Name’s Jesse.” 

“A pleasure to meet you, Jesse,” the guy says, inclining his head to him. “My name is Zenyatta. I will be leading the meeting tonight. We are a small group, you will not have to meet too many people.” 

“Cool,” Jesse says lamely, because “I really would’ve rather had a big group to hide in, actually” probably isn’t gonna earn him any favors. Zenyatta leads him deeper into the church, and Jesse follows because Gabe will never let him hear the end of it if he ditches. 

The meeting room is small, with a few chairs and a sad-looking little snack table that actually has a surprising amount of food weighing it down. Jesse resists the urge to beeline for it, mostly because Zenyatta starts introducing him around. There’s an older lady with a missing eye, an older guy with a missing arm, and then a much younger girl and boy, the girl down an arm and the boy down an arm _and_ a leg. Apparently arms are harder to hold onto. 

. . . that wasn’t supposed to be, like, a _joke_. 

“Lovely to meet you, Jesse,” the older lady--Ana--says with a smile. Torbjorn claps him on the back with his heavy prosthetic; Satya and Jamison largely ignore him, seeming more occupied with their toys and the food. Jesse thinks they’ve got the right idea. 

“That’s everyone, except for--” Zenyatta pauses, then hums contentedly. “Genji, hello.” 

“. . . hello,” a guarded voice mutters from the door, and Jesse turns away from eyeing the food to see a literal temptation from the _devil_ standing in this church basement. The prettiest boy he has ever seen in his _life_ is standing there stiffly in an oversized hoodie and shapeless jeans, fist clenched and empty sleeve of his sweatshirt hanging against his side. He’s got bleached hair with a weird green tinge that’s growing out black and a miserable expression on that pretty face, but all the same one look at him has Jesse ready to forgive Gabe for suckering him into this entirely. Was he mad about this? Never goddamn mind. 

Zenyatta introduces them, Genji grunts in some vague kind of acknowledgement, and Jesse feels irrationally close to swooning. A pretty boy is a pretty boy, alright, no matter the situation. 

They all go to sit and he realizes belatedly, as he sees him walk, that Genji’s missing a leg too. Maybe both of them, actually, although Jesse’s trying not to stare. The other might take it the wrong way if he caught him at it. Getting a closer look at him, Jesse can see he’s got scars on his face and neck and hand--pretty bad ones, actually, like he went through a window or something. Maybe he did. There’s even some scarring on his eyes, which has him wincing in sympathy. He hopes the guy can see okay. 

Zenyatta gives a little spiel, Jesse’s assuming mostly for his benefit, and then they go around the circle and take turns talking a bit. Genji just shakes his head when it’s his turn and no one presses him, and Zenyatta doesn’t make Jesse talk either, so that’s . . . merciful, at least. He really wasn’t looking forward to spilling on a bunch of strangers five minutes after meeting them. 

The meeting’s not actually as bad as he’d worried it was gonna be, and they even end up wrapping up a little early. Torbjorn makes him take half a cake and a bunch of cookies with him before he leaves--says his wife hates to see them go uneaten and his kids already have plenty--which is the easiest thing anyone’s made him do all day. 

Jesse looks around for Gabe in the parking lot, sees no sign of him, and takes the chance to sneak out back of the church for a cigarette. Maybe a couple more of those cookies, too--they are _damn_ good, Torbjorn’s wife is apparently a gift to the kitchen. Gabe’s gonna know he was smoking, but he’ll survive the lecture. 

The group was kind of weird. He wasn’t expecting . . . well, alright, he’s not sure _what_ he was expecting, but a support group ranging from parents to preteens run by the most chill guy he’s ever met definitely wasn’t it. He’d hate to play poker with Zenyatta, that’s for damn sure. 

He tucks himself into the bottom of the basement stairwell and sets the leftover food aside, then pulls a cigarette out of his pack with his teeth and lights it. The whole process takes about twice as long as it should without a spare hand--it is goddamn _amazing_ how much easier having two hands makes life--but he gets it done, so who cares. He takes a drag, then eyes the Tupperware of cookies dubiously. That . . . might present more of a problem. 

Well, he’s a resourceful man, he can figure this shit out. 

Jesse is just about to attempt to get the Tupperware open one-handed when he sees motion out of the corner of his eye and spots Genji coming around the corner. He considers trying to hide the cigarette, but chances of success are pretty slim and he _just_ lit the thing. 

“Hey,” he says instead, and Genji startles, apparently just noticing him. Okay, maybe he had a better chance of hiding his smokes than he thought. “Genji, right?” 

“. . . right,” Genji replies warily, just looking at him. Jesse takes a drag, not really sure what to do with the situation. A few months ago he’d already have been flirting, but a few months ago he still had both arms and his nose wasn’t crooked from getting smashed in and--

Okay, that’s probably pretty stupid shit to worry about with somebody from an amputee support group. But who knows, really. 

“Come here often?” he says, and gets a dry look in return. 

“Every week,” Genji says. 

“Okay, so dumb question,” Jesse says. “How long you been coming? It gets easier, right?” 

“A year,” Genji says after a moment. “And . . . somewhat.” 

“A ringing endorsement right there.” Jesse takes another drag and resists the urge to ask if being down an arm gets easier too. He wonders if Genji has a prosthetic one. Gabe’s been insisting he get fitted for one; Jesse’s been insisting he not break the bank over him. So far it’s a stalemate. “How about Zenyatta, he okay?” 

“Zenyatta’s the only reason I come,” Genji says. 

“Cool.” Jesse ashes his cigarette, wondering where to go with this. He definitely wants to keep talking, he’s just not sure what about. “Want a smoke?” 

“Yes,” Genji says immediately. He pulls one out of the offered pack and even lets Jesse light it for him, which is officially the best thing that’s happened to him all night. Like, even better than free cake. He watches Genji take a drag and keeps trying to figure out what to say to keep him around. Genji sits down on the steps, at least, if somewhat awkwardly. Jesse bites back the questions that would probably be too invasive and ashes into the grass. Gabe’ll be here soon. He kind of wishes they had more time. 

“It’s sort of weird,” he says. 

“It’s always weird,” Genji says. “What happened to your arm?” 

“Flipped my dad’s car,” Jesse says with a shrug, and figures that means he can ask, “What about you?” 

“Same,” Genji says. “My brother was driving, though. We were having a fight. Not a scratch on him, but I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.” 

“Ah,” Jesse says with a wince. “That sucks, man.” Genji snorts, which--fair enough, yeah. “That sucks” doesn’t even _begin_ to cover it. 

“I was really angry at him for a long time,” he says. 

“That go away?” Jesse asks. 

“Not really,” Genji says. “But Zenyatta says it could, if I want it to.” 

“. . . so _do_ you want it to?” Jesse asks, cocking his head. 

“Not really.” Genji smirks humorlessly, and Jesse pays way too much attention to the way it curves his mouth. “Who are you mad at?” 

“I mean, I was driving,” Jesse says. Admittedly he wasn’t the asshole who ran the red light, but still. He could’ve done something different, probably. “I gotta go back around front. My ride’s probably here.” 

“Then go,” Genji says with a shrug. “You’ll be back next week, right?” 

“Maybe,” Jesse says, then spends a moment longer than he should looking at that pretty face. Genji shrugs again, and Jesse stubs out his cigarette, grabs the cake and cookies, and heads back, even though he kind of doesn’t want to. Gabe’s parked in front of the doors and doesn’t seem surprised to see him coming around the side. 

“There you are,” he says. “How’d it go?” 

“It went,” Jesse says with a shrug. He gets into the car, and Gabe starts it up again. 

“You gonna come back, or do I have to find you a new one?” he asks. Jesse thinks about it, but it doesn’t really require much thinking about anything but Genji and that humorless smirk of his. 

“Naw, I’ll come back,” he says, and Gabe’s face breaks into a smile. 

“That’s my boy,” he says.

Jesse's had worse nights.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr!](http://suzukiblu.tumblr.com/)


End file.
